Why I Wouldn’t Mind Turning 33 Again


Up until my 32nd birthday I wasn’t afraid of birthdays. But for this milestone of 33, I sort of was.

I was aware of some sort of ticking…whether it was from my biological clock or my own expectations of where I want to be professionally, I don’t know. But it was there, right up to the night before celebration time.

As I lay in my bed listening to this ticking, I suddenly remembered that I actually *like to be different every year, somehow. I thought about how many different jobs I’ve had, the places I’ve been, and the new hobbies I’d picked up.

I reminded myself that I never got down about turning one year older because I just knew it was a reason to choose to be someone different – if I wanted – and in a good way.

For instance, I’ve wanted to work more with animals. Or maybe this would be the year that I learn to make chocolate. Or I might want to teach. It all really comes down to my “top 5” list.

Even if that activity towards a new-and-hopefully-improved Cat was undecided, just knowing that even had a choice in what I wanted to do immediately quieted the annoying ticking that threatened to become louder.

I fell asleep and woke up feeling great, ready to do whatever felt fun and natural on my day off. Turns out, turning 33 was indeed awesome.

My first gift: Being able to take the day off. I got to eat good food like cupcakes from Sugar Mama’s and sandwiches from the trailer Schmaltz, and go to Krause Springs with my husband.


I’m a health coach, but I’m not insane. Cupcakes PLEASE!


My second gifthaving my profile published in the Statesman. It’s not because my ego is inflated and I feel warm and fuzzy inside, but I’m INCREDIBLY PSYCHED that I have met more people who want to improve their health, and I can’t really think of anything better than that.

I couldn’t have asked for a better way to start a new birth year. (Just remind me to re-read this post next year if you hear me panicking about turning one year older!)

To aging gracefully,